"You were quite right, Milly. And I would not speak to the man again if I were you. He may not be so kind and friendly as he seems. I am glad you have told me."
"I couldn't rest till I had spoken. I was afraid you might think harm of me," said the girl, flushing scarlet again, and twisting the corner of her apron.
"I will not think harm of you if you always tell me about your acquaintances as you have done to-day," said Lettice with a smile. "Don't be afraid, Milly. And—if you will trust to me—you need not be anxious about the future, or about the child. I would rather that you did not take money from anyone but myself for your needs and hers. I have plenty for you both."
Milly could not speak for tears. She went away sobbing, and Lettice was left to think over this new turn of affairs. Was Sydney's conscience troubling him, she wondered, after all?
This was early in November, soon after she came to Bute Lodge, and as the time went on, she could not but notice that the signs of trouble in Milly's face increased rather than diminished. Lettice had a suspicion also that she had not managed to get rid of the man with whom she had been walking on the Common. She was sure that she saw him in the neighborhood more than once, and although he never, to her knowledge, spoke to Milly or came to the house, she saw that Milly sometimes looked unusually agitated and distressed. It was gradually borne in upon Lettice's mind that she had better learn a little more of the girl's story, for her own sake; and coming upon her one day with the signs of trouble plainly written on her face, Lettice could not forbear to speak.
Milly was sitting in a little dressing-room, with some needlework in her hand. The baby was sleeping in a cradle at her side. She sprang up when Lettice entered; but Lettice made her sit down again, and then sat down as well.
"What is it, Milly? Is there anything wrong that I don't know of? Come, don't give way. I want to help you, but how can I do that unless you tell me everything?"
"There is nothing to tell except what you know," said Milly, making an effort to command herself. "But, sometimes, when I think of it all, I can't help giving way. I did not mean you to see it though, miss."
"I have never asked you any questions, Milly, about all that happened after you left me, and I do not want to know more than you wish to tell me. But don't you think I might do something to place matters on a better footing, if I knew your circumstances a little better?"
"Oh, I could never—never tell you all!" said Milly hiding her face.